I'm back. bolder. better. I'm writing.
For the last few years, I've been searching for answers, searching for friends, searching to quell that undeniable ache of longing in my heart.
I was convinced for the longest time it was caused by the unquestionable absence of my two best friends from high school who disappeared into the mists of time, leaving hardly a trace. I've called out to them, with siren voice, over the last few years, never knowing what would happen. After years of silence, I heard from one of them and his wife. It was her voice that snapped me out of a selfish haze of misery and helped me begin my quest to find what I have been truly looking for. While I won't say that quest has come to an end, I can say that I have some of the answers I have been looking for.
In actuality, I was never really looking for my long-lost friends, but for the unabashed attention they showered upon me, making me feel special and unique. While I've had that here at home, a lot can be lost in the daily routines of doctor's visits, diapers, feedings, educational testing, school education meetings, depression and work.
Intermixed with all that, I've had longings to finish things left undone and unsaid, and the need to feel that I've accomplished something in my life. Too many short stories are left unfinished, too many paintings sit unseen, too many first drafts of unfinished novels go unread. Like many mothers who split their time between work and children, I have this longing to shine through the titles of wife and mother. I stand behind tinted glass as the world sees only a shadow of who I once was, a murky mark on the other side of the pane. I long to feel special, to be recognized for my talents and feel appreciated. My sentiments are not new and not unique to the working mother.
I realize now, that even though I had a horrible childhood, I am a survivor. As a good doctor said to me recently, "You have this inner strength and a resilience like none I've ever seen. You survived when so many others would have sunk."
But I can't take credit for it all - I had bright points of light in my life; people and things that made me feel special. Some of those points - lighthouses in the foggiest of times - shine brighter than others: A row of trophies from the local fair, a medal from a newspaper competition, a pair of old friends, the smell of apple blossoms on a spring day as we stood on the campus of Columbia University, an English teacher who drove me two hours to interview for a journalism scholarship when my mother would not.
These things, places and people helped shaped me. They made me feel special. They helped me survive and so in my time of need, when things became dark around the edges, I sought them out instead of the beam of light that sits across the room from me this very night. Sometimes the brightest light cannot be seen in the fog if you refuse to look for it.
I like to say I have no regrets, but that would be a lie. We all have regrets, the difference is how we deal with them. I won't go into my laundry lists of things I cannot undo, but instead say this.
I wish I had been a better friend. If I had, then I could be there for you and her at this time. I don't know what I'd be able to do, except maybe offer you and her the strength that was given to me, the support and love of friends, the ear to listen and perhaps a little bit of my resilience. But at the same time, I am sure you have this in your life in a form other than me.
So I end, with a thank you to her. Without her, you would not be loved and happy. Without her, I might still be sitting in the dark.
It's January and here in the Northeast, we're buckling down for at least two more months of frigid temperatures, mountains of snow and icy roads. We haven't really even entered snow season yet.
Skiers are hitting the slopes and children are still hoping for snow without a crust of ice so they can make snowmen, but sledding downhill at the speed of light is still a thrill.
Snowmobilers are also in their glory wearing full suits like this one to keep them from cold, soaked clothing, temperatures in the single digits and hypothermia.
So could someone please explain to me why I am being assaulted with bathing suits, capris and summer shorts when I go to the store? Why is it that if I haven't purchased a bathing suit for my daughter by mid-March, she won't have one in time for swimming season - which is in late June, early July up here in Massachusetts.
Don't get me wrong, I understand why the fashion industry shows their collections months in advance. You have to show off your Spring collection months in advance so you'll have enough time to meet the demands of your buyers. However, if I want to buy a winter coat for my child in the middle of winter, because *gasp* a zipper broke, I won't be able to do it past January, because they're all on the clearance racks right now. We do need to make sure that the bathing suits are on clearance in May, so the Fall line of sweaters is on the shelves in time for that July heatwave.
Oh how I've longed to ready snarky comments about celebs written by women like me. Oh how I totally love Heartless Doll It's so delicious!!! Take a peak.